


Sacrificial

by anticyclone



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley's Snake Tongue, Crying During Sex, Cunnilingus, Evil Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Forced Orgasm, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclone/pseuds/anticyclone
Summary: Aziraphale says, "There's no shame in admitting defeat, my dear boy. Perhaps it simply isn't the right time."To start the apocalypse, Crowley needs to make a virgin sacrifice - that is, he needs to make a virgin climax. Heaven has designated the Principality Aziraphale for the task. Crowley had been looking forward to it, but it turns out Aziraphale is relentlessly stubborn.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 178
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	Sacrificial

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt from the kink meme](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=2742105#cmt2742105). Evil!Crowley must start the apocalypse by making a virgin orgasm for the first time. He binds Aziraphale to a pentagram for the purpose. Aziraphale tries to resist, but it becomes more and more difficult.

Crowley is sick of this. He's sick of all of this.

He presses his forehead to Aziraphale's thigh and lets out a long breath. At the beginning of this - _this_ specifically, not the Beginning - he'd waltzed into the arena with his hair pulled back into a neat wave of curls. Now it's half undone and wisps of it stick to his sweaty forehead and cheeks. He's breathing like it'll actually bring some relief to this body and isn't just a pantomime of pleasure.

"Angel, aren't you tired?" he asks.

Aziraphale, who has been breathing hard for a while now, lets out a strangled laugh. It would be cute if Crowley wasn't so fucking annoyed. Aziraphale says, "We can quit any time you want, my dear."

Crowley lifts his head just enough to glare.

Calling this place an 'arena' is probably a misnomer. Misappellation? Something. It's not so much a gladiatorial stadium as it is an endless void comprised of opaque darkness that makes every point seem as far away as every other point and yet is still all bright enough to see by.

Even if it hadn't been, even if this place had radiated shadow the way it radiates disinterested malice, the light of the circle would probably be enough to see Aziraphale's flushed face (flushed everything, really) by. It had taken Crowley ages to draw. Weeks. Days, at least. He'd had to take a bath in boiling sulfur after and he'd spent a solid couple of hours coughing up chalk dust, but he'd hardly been about to let another demon draw the binding pentagram for this assignment. Not when it came straight from Satan. Too much Temptation to foul it up, give the angel a loophole to literally wiggle out of, make Crowley look like a fool in front of the assorted host of Hell.

Not that the host of Hell is literally watching them. It's an endless void. There are no seats, and not even a demon wants to sit in a plastic folding chair if they don't have to.

Plus, Crowley is positive that they've overshot all estimates on how long this whole affair was going to take. If anyone had considered watching this, they surely would've given up by now.

Aziraphale gives him a weak smile, turning up just one corner of his mouth. His stupid blue eyes are wet again. He's on his back, his legs spread wide. Crowley had vaguely planned on miracling chains into place to keep them like that, but this is one tiny way Aziraphale has been obedient. At least after Crowley had first pushed his knees apart.

His hands, though.

He'd kept fidgeting, and trying to push Crowley's head away, like that did anything but make Crowley angry. So his hands are pressed together behind his back and there's a thick black cord binding his wrists in place.

He'd had the gall to complain about his shoulders hurting until Crowley had suggested that hands weren't necessary to complete this ritual.

After a moment Aziraphale lets his head fall back to the floor. There's a small, hard sound as his head hits black stone.

"I'll give you a pillow if you promise to speed this along," Crowley says, absently running the edge of his thumb along Aziraphale's dripping cunt.

"No thank you. I don't need it," the angel says, stiffly.

Like some of what's dripping out of him isn't Crowley's come. Like he hasn't held out for so long that every single bet placed by a demon on the outcome of this has been lost. Like Heaven hadn't deliberately handed him over expecting him to be a good little Principality and complete the first step of Armageddon like he's supposed to.

Not really paying attention, because paying attention hasn't gotten him anywhere so far, Crowley eases the tip of his thumb into Aziraphale's cunt.

"You do know what an orgasm _is,_ " he says, uneasily.

When you're a celestial or infernal being, perception and belief influence your body. It's how the chameleon always matches Ligur's eyes and how the frog stays on Hastur's head.

Crowley's been Satanically ordered to start Armageddon. To start the end of God's failed experiment on Earth, to restart the war between Heaven and Hell that never really stopped in the first place.

For fuck's sake, he'd been looking forward to it. A little light praise from Satan to tide him through the war and then nestling himself off in a forgotten corner of Alpha Centauri until all the dust's settled and everybody's figured out God hasn't had a hand in any of their affairs since Eden. (Or maybe since Golgotha, if you buy the hype.)

If the angel Heaven sent him is so chaste he doesn't know what sex is, this is never going to be over. This will just be another endless, impossible job Crowley will never be able to fulfill.

They'll have to invent an under-Hell just for Satan to kick him into.

But Aziraphale lifts his head again. The water in his eyes has spilled over onto his cheeks. Crowley's lost count of how many times the angel has cried at this point, but it still sends a lazy curl of satisfaction through his gut. If he weren't slumped over between Aziraphale's legs with his cheek pillowed on an extremely comfortable thigh, he'd slither up the length of Aziraphale's body to lick the salty tears off his face. He's already done that once and it had been nice. As far as nice goes.

"I know what an orgasm is!" Aziraphale snaps.

It's the first time in all of this that his voice has been sharp. Crowley actually blinks.

Aziraphale blinks too, rapidly, until the tears stop falling. The corners of his mouth have turned down - it's also the first time he's looked anything but stoic and resolute, or almost undone. He'd been shoved into the void wearing nothing but a loose, gauzy robe, which Crowley had immediately done away with. No reason to put up a pretense on why they were there. And he'd had a flat expression that hadn't given way until well after he'd been magically bound to the pentagram.

But even though Aziraphale had cut his lower lip where he'd bitten it to keep from screaming, he still hasn't actually come.

So on they go. Crowley draws his thumb away.

Aziraphale drops his head back. "I am fully aware, _thank you,_ of what's required of me."

"Really?" Crowley asks, skeptically.

"If I didn't," Aziraphale grinds out, "you've certainly demonstrated it yourself."

"What, do you want me to apologize?" Crowley crooks two fingers and spreads them, so he can rub his knuckles along the outer edge of Aziraphale's cunt. Not enough to be directly stimulating, but enough to prevent him from cooling down too much. "I'm a demon, Aziraphale. Having a prim little thing like you to ravish all on my own is - it's like a present." He lowers his voice. "If you want me not to come again, you could give in."

Aziraphale doesn't answer. He swallows. Crowley can see his throat move.

Sighing, Crowley stops teasing his cunt. He levers himself upright and crawls along Aziraphale's body. Aziraphale's ribs stretch when he breathes and his shoulders have sagged. He's stopped struggling against the wrist binding for the moment, then. His hands under the small of his back make his hips arch up slightly.

Crowley puts his hands flat on either side of Aziraphale's shoulders. His thigh presses against Aziraphale's cunt when he bends down to give Aziraphale a hard look. "There's no honor in prolonging this."

Aziraphale's eyes are huge. They're puffy and red from crying, and they're huge. And stupidly blue. He stares right at Crowley. There's no way to know what he's thinking.

"You aren't helping anyone. No one is going to go easier on you in battle because you made this last," Crowley says. He can hardly ask what Aziraphale sees when he looks at Crowley's eyes. The Enemy. An Adversary. A serpent. "It's not going to make Armageddon happen less." He pauses and throws out, "You know they'll just give you back to me when we win."

Aziraphale scowls at him. Oh. That's nice.

Crowley lifts one of his hands to sweep some water off Aziraphale's cheek, and licks the tear from his finger. He's talking nonsense, of course. Nobody's going to care about him no matter who wins. And he won't be here long enough to see it.

"Or maybe they won't."

He shrugs one shoulder, reaches down to cup Aziraphale's cheek in his palm. He moves Aziraphale's face back and forth. There's nothing new to look at, but he wants to make a point. Aziraphale shifts uneasily beneath him but can't break free.

"Maybe," Crowley says, still lying through his teeth, "we should drop the shadows. Invite in some extra help."

"What?"

"You didn't think we were alone here, did you?" Crowley murmurs. He makes sure to grin. Selling a lie is always easier with a grin. "How about it? Do you want to drop the shadows and get some help? Maybe that's what you need, after all." He gently squeezes Aziraphale's jaw as Aziraphale's mouth twists angrily. "Hmm? Maybe being all filled up will work better. Or maybe you just need a bunch of rapid-fire fucks all in a row, is that it?"

Aziraphale says, quietly, "No."

Crowley moves his thigh between Aziraphale's legs. "Does that mean you're going to cooperate?"

For a moment Aziraphale just looks off to the side. His breath is coming even faster now and from the way he shifts, he's probably clenching and unclenching his hands behind his back. It's kind of hot. Crowley regrets not binding his hands above his head, so it'd be easier to watch.

Then Aziraphale looks up at him through his eyelashes, and tilts his chin up, and asks, "Do you not think you're enough for me?"

Crowley is startled enough to hiss. There are fangs in his mouth. Bless it.

"Perhaps you've used up all your tricks." Aziraphale laughs. It's forced, but he still laughs, and Crowley sits back on his knees. Aziraphale says, "There's no shame in admitting defeat, my dear boy. Perhaps it simply isn't the right time."

Oh, Crowley is - Crowley is going to - He's going to -

He grits his teeth. Aziraphale wants him to lose control. Aziraphale, for some damned unknowable reason, wants Armageddon to fail.

Aziraphale isn't going to get what he wants.

Crowley catches Aziraphale's face in both hands. Before Aziraphale can question or protest, Crowley is kissing him. It's half teeth and squirming and Aziraphale bucking up against him but it makes a point. Crowley bites Aziraphale's lower lip for good measure and also because he'd figured out early into this that it would make Aziraphale let out the sweetest little yelp of pain. Aziraphale tries to twist his mouth away from Crowley's.

Yeah, no.

Crowley digs his fingers into Aziraphale's face and breathes out, "I'll stop when you kiss me back."

"You don't _need_ me to… Oh, damn it," Aziraphale whispers.

"You look so defeated."

Aziraphale winces. But he also tentatively presses his lips to Crowley's.

It's embarrassing how abruptly hard that makes him. Actually, genuinely embarrassing.

For a second Crowley considers taking advantage of their position and the fact that Aziraphale is still so wet to just take him again. It'd be easy. An image of forcing Aziraphale to keep kissing him through the whole thing sparks behind his eyes and oh is he capital-t Tempted. His cock rubs against Aziraphale's cunt and Aziraphale's hips move, at the same time he hesitantly touches his tongue to Crowley's mouth. Crowley groans.

Aziraphale cringes. It breaks the pretty illusion of his legs wrapped around Crowley's waist that had been floating behind Crowley's eyes.

"If I'm not enough, why was it written this way, huh? Tell me, Principality Aziraphale. When did Heaven let you know you were put up for this?" Crowley sits up. He smiles as much as necessary to let the tips of his fangs show. Trails a hand down Aziraphale's chest. "Because I've known since Eden. Had a warning not to go near you. Guess they were worried I'd help myself to you too soon."

Aziraphale stares at him, eyebrows up, eyes wide, lips parted. "You never saw me in Eden. I would've - I would've seen _you,_ if you'd seen me."

"Didn't want to be seen. Thought for a bit about just getting it all over with on the wall," Crowley says. This isn't a lie. He doesn't have to grin. He rubs his hands along Aziraphale's sides until Aziraphale shivers, and then he starts easing back down to settle back between Aziraphale's legs. "But you had that sword, and I wasn't sure how easy it'd be for you to summon it."

"Oh," Aziraphale says. He looks away.

"Did they wait to tell you until after Babel?" Crowley nuzzles Aziraphale's stomach, kisses his skin. "Until Jesus? Or did you find out with everybody else when Revelations was issued?"

"My name isn't in the Book of Revelation," Aziraphale says. "Neither, for that matter is yours."

It would be a great dig, but all it does is make Crowley laugh. "You found out when they told you to come down here."

"It was best that way," Aziraphale tells him. He's staring out into the void. His shoulders jerk when Crowley nips at his soft stomach.

"So you've gone thousands of years without an orgasm all on your lonesome. Poor thing."

"It - It wasn't relevant. I had other duties to attend to, and it would have d-distracted." Aziraphale lets out a little whimper. His legs have been spread all this time, but now he jerks his knees up.

Crowley's closed his lips around Aziraphale's clit. The feeling of Aziraphale's legs squeezing his sides is nice. He can pretend for a second that Aziraphale actually wants to keep him in place.

If it were at all up to Aziraphale, if choice factored into this in the least way, if it hadn't all been laid out by God Herself… Aziraphale would probably have run Crowley through with a flaming sword as soon as he'd come into the void. Crowley has distinct memories about that flaming sword.

"Oh Crowley, I - I can't, _please,_ please can't you stop!"

Crowley pinches Aziraphale's thigh. "You know I can't."

"It's all such a terrible waste," Aziraphale cries. He's pressed his cheek against the floor. "Haven't you been to Earth? Destroying it will mean destroying so much."

"I've been to Earth. Lots. Do Principalities get debriefings on the tortures in Hell?" Crowley dips two fingers into Aziraphale's cunt and spreads them. Even though it hasn't worked, Aziraphale does seem to like it. It makes him shiver when Crowley moves his hand up and down, his fingers open like this. "We borrowed every single bit of that from humans."

Aziraphale keeps his head down. He tries not to shiver when Crowley pushes his hand a little deeper into his cunt and fails.

His voice wavers, but he says, "I'm not a fool. But they don't always choose the worst, Crowley. Sometimes they choose to do the most beautiful things."

Crowley is absolutely sick of hearing Aziraphale say his name like that. Pityingly.

"They chose an apple," he murmurs back. Aziraphale sighs. Crowley reminds him, "We were both there."

"I know."

"I'm going to indulge myself, angel." Crowley kisses Aziraphale's thigh, nuzzles the crease where his leg joins his body. He flicks his tongue out and allows himself to groan with how sweet Aziraphale smells. Not that he hadn't smelled the angel before, but it's different with this tongue. He pulls his hand away and settles his hand against Aziraphale's leg. "Pretend you're back in Eden with me, yeah?"

"What do you mean, pretend-" Aziraphale stops abruptly, gasping, when Crowley's forked tongue dips into his cunt. "Cr-Crowley," he stammers. "What. What are you-"

Crowley pauses only long enough to smirk at him. He does let his tongue curl in front of his lips, so Aziraphale gets a good look at it, before he goes back to what he was doing.

Something about tasting Aziraphale this way makes it better, too. Crowley tilts his head to one side. He licks deep into Aziraphale's cunt. His tongue is longer now and he's able to curl it in a way he can't when he's playing at being human. Technically he should also not be able to do this when he's playing at being a snake, but a demon's owed some liberties.

Also, it makes Aziraphale whimper.

He swipes his thumb across Aziraphale's swollen clit, which makes Aziraphale let out a sound less _word_ and more pure holy energy that burns Crowley's ears but makes a pretty light where it cracks in the air. It hurts. It hurts his ears, his eyes. For a second he can't see anything but bright light. When he tilts his head next, Crowley lets a fang scrape Aziraphale's skin. A gentle warning.

Aziraphale's gasping protests are so … pretty. Normally 'pretty' isn't Crowley's thing, but he's been catching far-off glimpses of Aziraphale since Eden and at this point anything Aziraphale does is Crowley's thing.

"Crowley," Aziraphale says. He's gasping for breath. "Undo the bindings on my wrists."

Okay. Almost anything. Crowley lifts his head enough to roll his eyes where Aziraphale can see it, then goes back to stroking his tongue against a spot that makes Aziraphale's legs shake. Aziraphale's whole body jerks, so Crowley does it again.

What he really wants to do is reach down and jerk himself off because Aziraphale's crying again and Crowley is _painfully_ hard. Sacrifices must be made, he guesses. By somebody. Somewhere. Makes sense it'd be him, here and now. He should've tried harder to convince Beelzebub putting a bed into the circle wouldn't mess up the pentagram magic.

"Crowley, please," Aziraphale tries. Crowley takes it as an invitation to pinch his clit. Aziraphale starts to struggle against his bindings again. "You don't have to do this!"

Crowley slowly, slowly, slowly draws his tongue back. He rolls his head to the side. Lets the forked end of his tongue flick out past his lips. Aziraphale's huge blue eyes are locked on his. Aziraphale's shoulders are shaking from the effort of trying to hold himself up. There's sweat on his stomach and his chest stretches when he breathes in.

"Don't have to," Crowley agrees, for the perfect flare of hope in Aziraphale's eyes. That nearly makes Crowley come on the spot. He has to swallow before he can add, "But I want to, angel."

Aziraphale flinches.

"What?" Crowley laughs. He nuzzles Aziraphale's thigh, breathes in through his open mouth. Strokes the flat of his thumb slowly along Aziraphale's cunt. "Am I not your 'dear' anymore?"

Aziraphale drops his head.

Crowley gets back to business. He uses his lips for a moment, laying down light and teasing kisses, because it's nice. Aziraphale flinches again at the noise of it. Crowley closes his lips around Aziraphale's clit and sucks a little. It earns him Aziraphale shivering. So does teasing the end of his tongue back inside Aziraphale's cunt.

It doesn't really occur to Crowley that he's being _gentle_ until Aziraphale suddenly isn't, his hips jerking up to press his cunt against Crowley's face and his torso twisting to the side like he's trying to pretend he doesn't want Crowley's tongue deeper inside him.

Crowley laughs as much as he can like this. He snaps his fingers. The pentagram turns briefly black. When it fades back to chalk white, Aziraphale's legs are wonderfully, obediently spread, his ankles locked in place above two key lines of the circle's construction. Crowley braces himself with one hand and settles the other possessively on the soft curve of Aziraphale's stomach. He goes back to rolling his tongue against that spot that makes Aziraphale shake.

About ten seconds slip past before Aziraphale is sobbing.

Crowley glances up. There's a fractured ring of light around Aziraphale's head. It's flat and deep at the same time. It splits into fractals wherever Crowley looks at it. There are feathered curls of blue and white and gold in the spirals and waves. There's also a tight little coil of red-orange flame at the center.

It's a good thing Aziraphale's too far gone to notice, because coming untouched from the sight of his halo is the single most embarrassing thing Crowley's ever done.

Crowley shudders, and Aziraphale screams.

The entire fucking void goes white.

When the shadows are back, Crowley sits up. His mouth, chin, and throat are all wet.

Aziraphale's shoulders are shaking and his back is arched even more, because in addition to the hands tied behind his back, his godblessed _wings_ have manifested.

Aziraphale's also bitten his lower lip hard enough that it's curled in between his teeth. There's a little red stain on his mouth. He has his cheek pressed against the floor, and he's crying silently. His chest shakes and the tears slide down his face to hit his nose and the corner of his mouth.

Crowley moves forward just far enough to tangle one hand in Aziraphale's hair. He uses the hold to pull Aziraphale upright. Aziraphale winces in pain and his wings rustle heavily, dragging on the floor behind him.

"Look at you, you're a wreck," Crowley murmurs. He licks Aziraphale's throat before nipping at the thin skin above his pulse. Aziraphale's breath catches. "Your wings are a mess. And you can feel that, right? It's starting."

Aziraphale swallows when Crowley presses their foreheads together.

The void around them is losing color, fading from the blackest black to a shimmering, unsure gray.

Aziraphale gives a tiny nod.

Crowley kisses him. He presses his still-forked tongue into Aziraphale's mouth, so Aziraphale has to taste himself, and he reaches behind Aziraphale with his free hand to run his fingers through Aziraphale's feathers. A mess, but a soft mess. All for him.

After a spiral of frantic seconds, Crowley bearing down on him the entire time, Aziraphale tentatively kisses him back.

He breaks the kiss and grins. It's not quite a lie, but close. The answer doesn't actually matter.

"How do you feel about Alpha Centauri, angel?"


End file.
